


You Miss 100% of the Nazis You Don't Punch

by MountainKestrel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Established Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Face Punching, Greenwich Village, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Mild Blood, Nazis, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:34:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28952040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MountainKestrel/pseuds/MountainKestrel
Summary: Steve punches a Neo-Nazi after he insults Tony.  That’s it — that’s the whole story.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 175





	You Miss 100% of the Nazis You Don't Punch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoseRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseRose/gifts).



> This story is a gift to [RoseRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseRose/pseuds/RoseRose), who won a 1-3K story from me in the raffle after the POTS Discord readathon. Her prompt was Captain America punching a Neo-Nazi, which we both agreed there needs to be more of. You can find the pattern for the needlepoint piece that Tony and Steve admire [here](https://etsy.me/35h7GEj).
> 
> **Trigger/Content Warnings in the end notes.**
> 
> Many thanks to [RiaRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaRose/pseuds/RiaRose) for her encouragement and beta and [ChocolateCapCookie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCapCookie/pseuds/ChocolateCapCookie) for the final polish!
> 
> I’m on Discord as musicalla#7701. I’m always happy to chat if you want to say hi! I spend almost all of my time on the [Put on the Suit (18+) Stony Discord server](https://discord.gg/z5WSqbS), which is a wonderful, supportive place full of fantastic creators.

It started out innocently enough.

Tony had talked Steve into going to Greenwich Village to try a new coffee shop Pepper had recommended. After finishing their coffee, they strolled along 7th Avenue, enjoying the beautiful summer weather too much to head back to the tower quite yet. One of the stores had handmade crafts in the window, and Tony stopped to inspect a cross-stitch piece. “Look,” he said, pointing to the frame. “I know what I’m getting you for your birthday — it’s even in your colors!”

Steve peered closer, confused. The border had flowery embroidery at the top and the bottom in varying shades of red and blue, while the lettering in the middle read “You miss 100% of the Nazis you don’t punch.” Giving Tony a sidewise glance, the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement. “I feel like needlepoint has changed since the Depression.”

Tony gave him a skeptical look in return. “You know how to —” He paused, making a gesture with his hand that could have meant anything from ‘make something like that’ to ‘I don’t know how to finish this sentence without accidentally insulting you,’ before continuing with “— do needlepoint?”

With a shrug, Steve pulled him close. “I was a scrawny kid who never broke a hundred pounds and missed a lot of school because I was sick. I mostly knitted and mended our clothes, but I wasn’t above the occasional needlepoint piece if Ma needed me to do it for some reason. She would do it on her breaks at work — she found it easy to pick up and put down on the ward — and give them away when she was done. Sometimes she didn’t always have time to finish them before she wanted to give them away, so I would do it.”

“You’re a man of many facets,” Tony answered. “I’m amazed every time I uncover a new one.”

Steve crowded him close to the window, putting his hands in the hip pockets of Tony’s jeans and pulling him close. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic,” he whispered in Tony’s ear, nipping at his earlobe, “or actually complimenting me. Would you like me to punish you for being mean, or reward you for being nice?”

Wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck, Tony pulled back a little, giving him a wicked grin. “Oh, definitely the first,” he replied. “I need to be put into my place.” Steve gave him an indulgent smile and kissed him, pushing him against the window with a gentle thump.

“Oh god,” Tony heard behind Steve’s shoulder, “can’t you faggots get a room?”

Steve pulled away and straightened as he turned around. Tony came to his side, wrapping his arm around Steve’s waist. Standing near them on the sidewalk was a young man in sunglasses, jeans, and a Jets jersey with the number 88 blazed on the front and back, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.

“You do realize where you are?” Tony couldn’t help but ask. “Greenwich Village? Probably the gayest neighborhood in one of the gayest cities in the world? Stonewall Inn is only a couple of blocks away. There is literally a monument to gay liberation _right over there_.”

“You don’t have to rub it in my face,” the guy barked back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Some of us grew up in this neighborhood and don’t like the way you people have changed it.”

Tony felt Steve stiffen and gently squeezed his side as he said, “Look — you’re what? Twenty? Thirty? I’ve got bad news for you, buddy — this neighborhood has been like this for decades. It’s not like ‘we people’ just changed it.”

“What do you know? You live uptown in that big ugly tower. Yeah, I know who you are. Big man can’t get women to date him so he turns to men instead. It didn’t used to be like this — dykes and fairies all over the fucking place.” He took a few steps towards them, pointing his index finger at Tony’s chest. “I miss the way it used to be.”

Steve took a step forward out of Tony’s grasp, his own hands in his pockets. He loomed over the other man, clearly unimpressed. “You mean, ‘the good ol’ days?’” He replied, his tone mocking. “When people couldn’t step out with whomever they loved? When women couldn’t have their own bank accounts or credit cards? When African Americans had to fight in different units and go to different schools and drink out of separate water fountains? When you could be thrown in jail or castrated or made to take hormones for loving a man instead of a woman? I guess I’m not sure what exactly made them better.”

The other guy glanced at Steve. “I was talking to _him_ ,” he snapped back. “Besides, what do you know?”

“I was born in 1918,” Steve answered mildly. “What do _you_ know?”

Narrowing his eyes, the guy took another look, running his eyes from Steve’s head down to his boots. “That’s impossible.”

“Better living through science,” Tony answered. “Weren’t you here in 2012? Familiar with the Battle of New York? Red, white, and blue suit with a matching shield? The Star Spangled Man with a Plan? Any of this ringing a bell?” He came to stand next to Steve and gestured to him. “Captain America,” he added, just to make sure the guy got it. “I mean, he’s literally in the history books, if you missed the movies, and the comics books, and the action figures, and the History Channel specials —“

“That’s enough,” Steve cut him off.

“You must think I’m a fucking idiot. Captain America isn’t a _faggot_ ,” the guy replied. 

“Surprise,” Steve said, spreading his hands wide. “Guess the history books missed a few things. For what it’s worth, my best friend was also a Jew.”

The guy curled his lip. “Just as well he never made it to Germany then.”

Moving impossibly fast, Steve grabbed the front of the guy’s jersey, scrunching up the 88, and lifted him up with one hand. Steve slammed him against the brick wall of the store hard enough that the cross-stitch piece in the window shook, the frame falling over. Steve shoved his face close to his, and his eyes widened in shock. “I’m sorry — I must have misheard you,” Steve said in a low tone that Tony was intimately familiar with. It was often the only warning someone got before Steve lost his temper. Steve rarely yelled when he was angry — he got quieter and quieter before the truly epic explosion.

Tony had to imagine that, when he was only 5 foot 4 and 94 pounds, the effect wasn’t very memorable. Now, however — well, it left quite the impression.

“Your boyfriend from the War shoulda died in a concentration camp,” the guy said, enunciating every word, “just like you two fudge packers.”

Steve’s hand was clenched at his side, and Tony could see it trembling, the movement reverberating into his arm. “He’s not worth it, sweetheart,” Tony said. “We shouldn’t let him ruin our day.”

Slowly lowering him to the ground, the movement making a scraping sound, Steve let go of his jersey once his feet were on the ground. “It takes a pretty small man to be so worried about what other people do behind closed doors.”

“A pansy like you can’t even follow through on defending his —“ The guy paused, glancing at Tony, “— pillow-biter.”

“Son,” Steve said through gritted teeth, “just don’t.”

“I mean, I kind of get it for him. His reputation at this point precedes him. He had to switch hit — no self-respecting woman would want him to put his dick in —“

Steve threw the punch with his left hand, abruptly cutting the guy off. He staggered back, covering his face with his hands, blood dripping through his fingers, until he tripped and fell onto his butt, skidding up against the brick wall.

“I tink he broke ba dose,” the guy wailed, pulling his bloody hands away to inspect them.

Tony stood in front of him, hands on his hips. “To make a few unsolicited observations, number 1: He warned you; 2: Not only did he pull his punch, he threw it left-handed, and 3: You can’t be _that_ surprised — they literally had an entire bond show around the idea of him punching Nazis.”

“I’b dot a Dazi,” he shot back. 

“White supremacist. Whatever it is ‘you people’ call yourselves these days.” Tony threw up his hands and turned to Steve. “I thought they were against political correctness.”

Steve just shrugged, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You’re goig to pay for dis,” he said. “I’ll habe you arrested.”

Turning back, Tony knelt down next to him, careful to make sure he stayed out of arm’s reach. “Ah. Yes. That one, I think you’ll realize, I can help with. Regardless of your opinions about me and my life choices, you clearly know I have a lot of money. I can say without a doubt that it would be my absolute pleasure to bleed you dry as you pursue your legal case against Captain America.” After a moment’s consideration, Tony added, “Not to mention the PR aspect. I can just imagine the headlines now: ‘Captain America Defends Iron Man’s Honor,’ ‘Captain America Returns to Old Favorite of Punching Neo-Nazis; Bystanders Post Videos on YouTube.’”

“I’b _dot_ a Dazi,” he protested again, spraying bloody spit in his irritation.

“Whatever,” Tony said contemptuously, already losing interest. He stood and brushed his hands off on his pants as though they had something unpleasant on them. “I think _you_ earned yourself a needlepoint piece,” he said, pulling Steve down to give him a kiss on the cheek. “If you broke the frame, I’m going to hang it in the common room just as it is to commemorate the afternoon.”

He walked over and opened the door to the shop, holding it open for Steve. Steve paused in the doorway, throwing one last speculative look at the guy on the ground, still holding his broken nose. “Don’t tell Nat — she’ll probably kill him herself.”

The guy’s head shot up, dripping blood onto the sidewalk. “Whad?” He asked, his voice jumping an octave as he jerked his head around to look back towards them. But Steve and Tony had already gone into the store, the door swinging closed behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> One character uses multiple homophobic slurs and implies Bucky should have been killed in a concentration camp because he's Jewish. Non-graphic description of Steve punching him and mention of blood afterwards.


End file.
